


Northern Lights

by DJ_Greg



Series: Christmas Stories [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Castiel as Santa Claus' son, Dean as Elf, Explicit Language, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21916408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJ_Greg/pseuds/DJ_Greg
Summary: Castiel was the son of Santa Clause living on North Pole and completely dedicated to his work of preparing Christmas gifts. Decades ago he decided that he shouldn't pursue any romantic relationship, because it would only distract him from the important task of bringing joy into children's lives bestowed upon his family by God. The problem was that his best friend, elf Dean, seemed interested in starting something more between them. And to make the situation worse, so was Castiel...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Christmas Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578493
Kudos: 27





	Northern Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another Christmas fic based on a bizarre idea that one day appeared in my mind and refused to leave. I planned for this story to be a short one, maybe around 7-8k, so of course it ballooned out of proportions! I swear, one of these days I'll manage to keep it short. Although I doubt any of you, my dear readers, mind. Let me know if you liked it!
> 
> Originally, there was suppose to be a companion story unrelated to "Northern Lights" featuring Benny as one of Santa Claus' grandsons sneaking inside Dean's house and getting caught by Dean, but due to how much time I spent on this one, I didn't have time to write another fic. I barely managed to finish "Northern Lights" and have my beta edit it together.
> 
> Big thanks to MrsDeanWinchester87 for editing, as always!
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone!

The fire crackled pleasantly in the fireplace, sending around the small office a scent of burning wood and a wave of heat that kept the outside cold from seeping in. Castiel finished scribbling on a long scroll that was unfurled on the desk before him, one end rolling over the edge onto the floor that was covered in thick carpet, and the other resting on his knees; he looked toward the window and noticed it had stopped snowing, at least as far as he was able to tell in the scarce light provided by the Everburning Bonefires. The Perpetual Night would last for several more months, long after their work would be finished for this year. Honestly, he didn’t mind. Having spent his entire 280 years of life in such an environment where darkness covered the horizon most of the time, Castiel had gotten used to it.

Each evening he sat reading comfortably in his armchair or laid on his warm bed in his small cottage, fireplace roaring. From what he had learned from both biology and fictional books normal people probably wouldn’t enjoy living in such circumstances as they required sunlight all year long to produce vitamin D, otherwise they could develop several serious illnesses like osteoporosis and osteomalacia. Castiel’s body and those of everyone who lived in this region grew accustomed to do with the limited amount of sunlight they caught over several months the sun was up.

The soft sound of paper being folded moved Castiel’s attention away from the window, past the long tongues of fire licking at the logs, and to his Father who put the last letter they’d gone through atop the sizeable pile laying on the small table next to him; twenty letters for the entire day was a good outcome, but it still troubled Castiel somehow. It meant twenty-three children were caught being naughty, so they’d be denied a present for Christmas. _That’s their own doing_ , Castiel decided, pushing away the sadness over those kids’ fate. They had a job to do and couldn’t afford any sentimentality while doing it. If the children couldn’t keep up with simple rules, they didn’t deserve to receive anything meaningful.

“Thankfully, this seems to be all,” Father announced, looking around in search for any letter that could have slipped his notice. But there was none.

Suddenly, a flicker of red sparkles - an established sign the house gnomes used to warn Santa Claus of upcoming information about misbehaving children - appeared in thin air, and before them, another letter materialized. Castiel’s father sighed, his round form sinking in the armchair as he took the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper with words hastily scribbled over them. Trained by nearly three millennia of experience, Castiel knew what to expect. He dipped his quill in red ink and moved his hand above the scroll, hovering the painted tip an inch above.

“Tasha Sheridan, age 8,” Father read. “Durham, Washington, U.S.”

Castiel carefully scribbled down the details. _Tasha Sheridan... 8... Durham, Washington... United States..._ The red words blazed brightly like burning coals and then soaked into the paper, disappearing from Castiel’s view; they would reappear when they were needed for proper delivery just like the details about other children.

Done with his work, Castiel put the quill in a metal holder and looked at his father. “That name sounds familiar,” he pointed out. “Wasn’t she on the naughty list last year as well?”

“I believe so, yes,” Father responded absentmindedly, still focused on the letter, his eyes moving from side to side as he scanned the words. After a moment of silence he read aloud: “ _Her sister, Kate, was busy playing with her own doll when Tasha showed up and demanded that the sister hands it over to her. When Kate refused, Tasha grabbed the doll and cut off its legs and arms, so Kate wouldn’t be able to play with it either. Although her parents made Tasha apologize and punished her, Tasha clearly sees herself as the victim._ ” Father sighed deeply and shook his head in disbelief.

If memory served Castiel, last year Tasha stole a “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic” themed lunch box from a friend at school because she liked it better. Tasha was smart enough to lie to her parents that her friend lent it to her for a couple of days when they asked about it, but she didn’t predict that said friend would _recognize_ her own property the next day when Tasha brought it to school. Apparently, being grounded for a month, losing pocket money on an apology gift for the other girl, and receiving coal from Santa Claus for Christmas did nothing to alter Tasha’s behavior.

“Some kids are a lost cause,” Castiel summarized as he started to fold the scroll, not expecting any more letters for the day; if something came up, they could write it down tomorrow. It seemed that in recent years the number of naughty children had increased. Castiel talked with his father about it and they both agreed that Stress-Free Upbringing and Everyone’s a Winner mentality were to blame.

“That’s not true,” Father responded calmly. “Children simply need discipline to learn how to respect other people and their property. Unfortunately, some parents fail to grasp nowadays that discipline is _not_ the same thing as physical punishment or abuse. They’re too weak to realize what damage they’re doing to their own kiddies. I know how it is to love your child,” he smiled fondly at his son and Castiel cleared his throat, flustered by the sensation of warmth that filled his heart, “but you can’t let them do whatever they want. You need to prepare them for the challenges of adult life and Tasha... She will fail at life and hurt a lot of people if her parents don’t take this behavior seriously.”

Castiel nodded. That was the purpose of their work: to encourage good behavior by giving well-behaved children fun and meaningful gifts while punishing the bad ones with - nowadays - useless coal. It was a crucial position and Castiel was fully dedicated to helping shape young minds for the better future of humanity. Had been for three centuries now.

The door to the office opened and Castiel’s mother entered carrying a silver tray with a mug of warm milk and a plate stacked full of cookies, a smile brightening her round face. Even if the marked scent of warm food hadn’t spread in the air and he hadn’t been able to see what was in Mrs. Claus’ hands, Castiel would be able to guess regardless. This was a tradition fulfilled almost religiously: Castiel and his father finished their day of work by updating the children’s wish-lists and marking the naughty ones based on letters from the house gnomes, then Mrs. Claus would come in with sweet treats to spend some alone time with her husband by the fireplace.

Which meant that it was Castiel’s cue to slowly remove himself from the scene; he’d already shared a delicious dinner with his parents, another tradition of theirs, so he didn’t begrudge having to leave. Not like his parents expected him to. It was his own choice to give them an evening free from everyone, including himself.

“Are you done yet, boys?” Mother asked, closing the door with her free hand while struggling to balance the tray in her other one.

Castiel shot to his feet to take it from her and put it atop the small table, pushing aside the letters he and his father had gone through in the past half an hour. “Just about,” he responded.

With a nod, Mother joined them in front of the fireplace and took a seat on the free armchair positioned across the table from her husband’s. She lowered herself carefully to avoid straining her old bones and muscles. Although Mother was able to run the house and in the absence of Father the entire village, Castiel had noticed that over the years her movements had slowed down noticeably. He took a deep breath to sooth the sadness and worry creeping inside his heart. God didn’t grant them immortality like people believed across the world, merely longevity and thus not for the first time in his life Castiel wondered how much life to live his parents had left. He dreaded the moment when he would need to fully take over his father’s responsibility of delivering gifts, because Father wouldn’t be able to join him anymore. How much longer before his mother wouldn’t be able to keep the house either?

But those thoughts were temporarily silenced when Father looked over the chocolate cookies and commented: “Sweets before the bed again? Are you trying to fatten me up?” He gave Mother a stern look that lacked any real heat in it.

“As if I have to contribute to it, you gourmand!” Mother scoffed, swatting Father on his arm and he chuckled at his own joke, his large belly jumping up and down. “You think I don’t know when you sneak out in the middle of the night to have a snack? And besides, I’d rather bake myself considering how well your last culinary attempt ended.”

A crimson blush, that wasn’t in any way caused by the heat coming from the flames, spread across Father’s face, a more noticeable contrast to his white hair and beard. He might have been good with making gifts, deliveries, and spending time with kids, but Father was a _terrible_ cook. When three months ago Mother fell ill and was too weak to bake − or do anything, really − Father lasted only a couple of days before he decided to make cookies on his own. The final result caused him to spend half a day in the bathroom and the other half sprawled on the couch in desperate attempt to ease his stomachache.

That’s why Castiel took care of preparing meals for his parents that week. Thankfully, Castiel had followed in Mother’s steps and knew his way around the kitchen quite well.

Now that they were both sat comfortably in front of the fireplace and ready to start their evening together, Castiel headed to the door to leave them alone.

“Cassie,” Mother called, causing him to stop with a hand on the doorknob and look back at her. “Aren’t you going to join us?”

“No, I want to make one last tour around the workshop before I head back to my cottage,” Castiel explained.

He didn’t like the worried look his parents exchanged. They had started doing that shortly after Castiel had turned two hundred years old and fully committed his time to overlooking the Christmas preparations around their village. But as the time went on, they did it more and more frequently. He couldn’t figure out why. They had a responsibility to create and deliver millions of gifts to children across the world. That was an important task and every second mattered!

“I’m sure the elves are almost done for the day,” Father pointed out, which was true, it was nearing 8PM. “Why don’t you do that in the morning instead, son?”

Castiel straightened up and shook his head, determination surging through his body. “There’s no need to leave for tomorrow what can be done today,” he decided. “What if an unexpected problem arose? We have only _four months_ left to finish all the toys. We _can’t_ allow ourselves any delays.”

“If there _was_ a problem that the elves couldn’t deal with on their own, they would have informed us,” Mother insisted.

Of course, her argument made sense. In the previous year a steam-powered machine for cutting wood broke down and the elves quickly went to fetch Castiel and his father once they had realized they couldn’t fix it on their own. Together they had spent an entire night and few hours into the morning before they had managed to replace the damaged parts and restart the machinery.

That should have calmed Castiel down, but fear at the idea of heading straight to his cottage and going to sleep without making sure everything was in perfect order, filled his heart. What if for whatever reason the elves decided that this time around, they wouldn’t bother him and Father and fix the problem on their own, wasting valuable time? No, he wouldn’t be able to catch _any_ sleep that way. Children around the world counted on them. God Himself passed this important task of bringing joy into the little ones’ lives and encouraging their good behavior for good of humanity.

“I’m sure they would,” Castiel agreed eventually. “But still, I’d be calmer if I checked for myself.”

After seeing Father and Mother exchange the exact same worried looks, Castiel slipped out of the room and gently locked the door behind, not seeing any sense in discussing the matter further. There was work left to do and no time to waste. He walked through the cottage occupied by his parents, which was the biggest single living quarters in the village, but still quite small to make it easier to keep the place warm in the cold environment; like every building around, it was made out of raw wood with two walls built inches away from each other with the free space between stuffed with cotton to prevent the warmth from seeping through them. The design was simple: a living room attached to a kitchen and dining room, plus Father’s office on the first floor; a bedroom and bathroom on the second one.

Castiel walked through the living room, smelling the fresh aroma of baked cookies and warm milk permeating the air. At the front door he paused to put his winter clothes on, made sure that the scarf was covering his lower face completely − even with a beard that any male in the village wore, it was preferable to leave as little of your body exposed as possible while walking outside − and the woolen hat and hood were snugly fitted atop his head. Once he was dressed properly, he opened the door and stepped outside.

Immediately the cold air scoured against his eyes and temples, biting mercilessly at them. The rest of his body remained pleasantly warm, but nevertheless he kept a firm pace as he stepped down the few steps leading from the cottage’s porch and headed to the workshop. The largest building that stood proudly in the center of the village; fittingly, considering that it was the center of their lives around here. The workshop was two stories high and took up a space comparable to the average mall that existed in the modern-day human civilization as Castiel had observed on his many gift deliveries through the world. Cottages occupied by Castiel, his parents, and elves were positioned in circles around it. Everburning Bonefires were scattered in free spaces, providing light during Polar Night and warmth to those wandering outside wanting to catch some fresh air. Castiel spotted the silhouettes of elves leaving the workshop and walking through the darkened, sleepy village back to their cottages for a dinner and a well-earned rest.

Due to the thick clothes Castiel wore, his movements were sluggish and more difficult than usual, causing him to breathe deeper from the effort. A blanket of snow that covered the ground for nearly the entire year, crunched underneath his booted feet. He stomped carefully, putting his whole foot down at once, to avoid falling for the potential treacherous ice hidden below. He passed by two female elves, which he recognized on the spot as Madison and Sarah despite both having as much outer wear on them as he did; he spent his entire existence living among the same characters, so he could guess who they were even if they hid their faces. The two women nodded at him politely and he responded in the same fashion before they walked by and disappeared behind him.

The distance to cover was short, but with his speed decreased by his winter wear Castiel needed nearly ten minutes to reach the workshop. In the meantime, his mind wandered down its own path.

For some reason he thought about his parents’ first meeting. He’d heard that story numerous times when he was a small kid still sharing the cottage with his parents − after he built his own, his old bedroom was reworked into Father’s office − and would ask how they became a couple. Years later an amused smile still stretched his lips as he walked through the snowy village.

It happened over five hundred years ago, well into Father’s career as Santa Claus. Born a normal human being under the name of Nicholas, he became a Bishop who earned the hearts of followers around him by visiting poor children to give them self-made toys, bringing a small amount of joy into their lives. As a reward for his kind heart and generosity, God offered to extend his life for millennia, so Father could continue his work, which Father accepted without hesitation. From that point on Santa Claus had gained some magical powers, like the ability to manipulate time to efficiently deliver gifts to _all_ children around the world in one night, or to create Everburning Bonefires to give heat for those that needed it. Attracted by Father’s nature, more and more elves had joined him on his quest until there were so many workers, they had to move to the North Pole and build an entire village. It had only expanded over time, hidden in a snowy valley between large mountains. Together they produced toys, clothes, and other items all year long to deliver on Christmas night.

During one of those deliveries Father had tried to get inside an orphanage through the chimney, but he had gotten stuck as a result of his growing weight. The sound of his struggles had woken up one of the employees at the orphanage, Charlotte Dickens, who stumbled across him in the living room. She had come to the only logical conclusion − that a burglar was trying to break in − so she had quickly grabbed a fire iron and started _whacking_ the intruder on his lower half that was sticking out. Eventually, Father had slipped free and landed on the floor of the fireplace, sending a cloud of soot around the room. Father had used his magic to clean the place, which made Charlotte realize she wasn’t dealing with an ordinary human. After Father had explained that he was _Santa Claus_ , Charlotte offered Father a plate of cookies and a glass of milk as an apology.

As the years progressed, Father would visit Charlotte each Christmas at first, but slowly the frequency of their meetings had increased, and they had fallen in love. Because Charlotte was a normal human being, she had grown older. On her death bed Charlotte had wished to be Father’s wife and to remain by his side for as long as he lived. God had heard her and once she took her final breath, a new life started for her. A life of living at the North Pole in harsh weather, surrounded by darkness for most of the year and working hard the entire time to produce enough gifts.

And she couldn’t be happier, since she could share that with her new husband.

Sighing to himself, Castiel reached for the workshop main entrance doors and pulled them open just wide enough to sneak inside, then quickly shut them closed to keep the warm from spilling out. The story of his parents’ love always made him both happy and melancholic at the same time. On one hand it was a touching romance, but on the other hand... Castiel’s heart _yearned_ for the same: to find a partner he could return home with instead of spending each evening alone in his cottage, to share all the ups and downs of his daily existence, and to spend every night buried underneath warm covers, tightly tangled against a warm body...

But that was a _foolish_ dream! Castiel straightened up − an instinctive movement he had grown to do as a way to regain control over his own emotions − and forcefully pushed away those _silly_ thoughts. He was here for a reason, to help prepare gifts for the little ones, a job that was neither easy nor quick. A romance would merely _distract_ him from this yearly goal! What was more important: his personal desires or joy of all children across the world? The answer was obvious. Although his heart might have been weak enough to long for such tender moments that his parents shared, there was still no place in his life for them. Work was the name of the game and he _couldn’t_ allow himself to waste any time on himself!

Which was easier said than done, considering—

Castiel gasped when he felt something _slam_ against his right heel, derailing his train of thought. He spun around, lowered his eyes to the floor and saw a small electronic car toy that resembled a black-colored monster truck backing away from him, then pausing in place.

“Heya, Cas!”

Castiel’s went completely rigid. Struggling to calm his fluttering heart, he turned around to face the grinning Dean who stood behind him, holding a controller for the toy car in his hands.

A pleasant wave of warmth filled Castiel’s chest as he took in the form of his good friend. Much like other male elves in the village, Dean wore a beard for protection from cold weather, thick woolen clothes in bright green color, leather boots and he was short in height, reaching only about to Castiel’s belly. But that’s where the similarities ended, because Dean was _nothing_ like everyone else. Even in a large crowd during the peak hours inside the workshop Castiel was able to immediately spot his friend; his natural charm, optimism and tendency to joke around made him stand out, if not in sight than in how he could dominate the conversation. Castiel stared into Dean’s wonderfully green eyes underlined by his outfit and light hair that shined in the light coming from the gas lamps, tips raised upwards with hair gel.

In spite of his initial reaction that would suggest he feared meeting Dean, it wasn’t an unpleasant meeting for Castiel. That couldn’t be _further_ from the truth. Since they had been kids, he and Dean had shared a profound friendship that remained strong even after they had grown up— Or to be specific, after _Castiel_ had grown up. Dean had remained relatively the same size. Due to his jokester nature Dean used to constantly come up with various pranks they could pull off and somehow Castiel had always ended up dragged into them, helping to set them up, laughing at the results and sharing the inevitable punishments. Not the type of pranks that would get either of them on a naughty list if they were normal human children, but still quite mean. One time they had switched the sugar with the salt in Mother’s kitchen, which resulted in a disgusting pie that Father had spat halfway across the kitchen, which Castiel and Dean had laughed at for the next month. And on another occasion they had covered old Rufus Turner’s clothes in glitter, so the next day the grumpy elf had to come to the workshop shining like “dog’s balls” as Dean described it; Rufus couldn’t wash the glitter out for a week.

From time’s point of view Castiel realized how childish and troublesome his behavior had been back then. Probably fitting as he _was_ a kid after all, but deep down he felt ashamed for taking part in those pranks. He knew exactly why he had agreed to it, though. Because whenever Dean had talked about his newest idea, his green eyes _shined_ in that wonderful matter and Castiel _yearned_ to hear his carefree laughter one more time, which overrode his better judgment.

He wasn’t a kid anymore, though, and nowadays he wouldn’t agree to Dean’s insane plans as his sense of responsibility had grown substantially in the past two centuries. However, the flustered reaction he felt back then remained and in fact appeared to grow stronger each time he so much as looked in Dean’s direction. Even in this very moment Castiel had realized he kept staring at his friend for several seconds without responding to his greeting, taking in the way Dean sized him carefully and bit his lower lip in that familiar mischievous manner that made him look like the prankster boy he had been decades ago. Castiel thought that any second Dean would ask him to help set up another prank and Castiel suddenly doubted himself to be able to refuse.

Castiel cleared his throat and responded with a “Hello, Dean” in the calmest tone he could muster, but his voice sounded harder than he’d like.

He watched as Dean strolled closer, bent over and lifted the car from the floor. In practiced moves speaking of years of experience, Dean positioned the controller in the nook of his elbow, turned the toy over, opened the small hatched on its underbelly, and pulled the batteries out. Then he focused his attention entirely on Castiel.

“I was kinda worried I wouldn’t see you today,” Dean said, watching his friend carefully. Was it just Castiel’s imagination or was there a hint of bitterness in his words? “Good thing I caught you before I left. So, what brings you here?”

“I wanted to check that everything’s in the right order,” Castiel explained.

“Sure, as always,” Dean confirmed, glancing over a shoulder at the rest of the workshop. “Everyone’s almost done for the day.”

Following after Dean’s eyes, Castiel looked around. The building appeared even bigger on the inside with a tall ceiling reaching up nearly twelve feet into the air with a second floor above them and long work tables spaced out in rows through half of its floor, leaving plenty of room for elves to move between them and build toys without interrupting each other. Behind a wall separating the workshop in two, were machines for chopping wood and making various ingredients like plastic, small metal parts, and fabrics needed for many gifts. Scattered through the large room were old-fashioned furnaces fueled with coal that provided the necessary heat for elves to work in comfort. Although most of them were already shut off, Castiel felt how warm the workshop still was and he reached up to pull off his woolen hat, then his scarf from around his mouth, before finally unzipping his jacket.

The place was mostly deserted as by Dean’s words. Castiel noticed only a couple of elves remaining dutifully at their station to finish the toy they were working on before heading out; among them was Dean’s younger brother, Sam, currently travelling through the back of the workshop and checking on the furnaces to make sure the fires were extinguished. Among all elves Sam stood out with his abnormally large frame; straightened to his full size he was reaching Castiel to his shoulders and could easily pass for a short, but normal man. That turned out be a source of mockery for poor Sam, because some elves teased him over his height. Of course, those elves were the primary target of Dean’s pranks. For at least three months, the old man Rufus had called Sam “Moose,” eventually he had caught on to why bad things were happening to him and he had finally stopped, but he had a few choice words for Dean and Castiel, which he had also shared with their parents.

Indeed, everything appeared to be moving smoothly like a well-oiled machine as it did each and every day. Castiel’s parents were correct that he didn’t need to worry so much, but he was of the mindset that it’s better safe than sorry.

With a nod of approval Castiel returned his eyes to Dean and furrowed his eyebrows at the disappointed expression on his friend’s face. He hated seeing Dean like this and his heart squeezed lightly at that sight.

“Is this why you decided to drop by?” Dean questioned. A mischievous smile returned, chasing away the shadow of disappointment. “I was kinda hoping you came to see me.”

The sadness at witnessing his friend in such an upset mood a moment ago vanished instantly to be replaced by flustered nervousness. Why on Earth did Dean _insist_ on making these types of comments? Lately whenever they saw each other Dean had been saying some very... suggestive lines, sometimes of the sexual nature. Castiel might have been mistaken as his people’s skills − elves’ skills? − were never the best, but Dean seemed to be flirting with him, which made him extremely uncomfortable, in large part due to how his body reacted to them. Dean was his friend, for God’s sake! He shouldn’t be so... excited at the prospect of Dean fulfilling his more forward promises and suggestions!

Castiel needed to move their conversation away from such treacherous tracks. “I’m always happy to see you, Dean, you know that,” he assured calmly. “We’re friends.” That apparently wasn’t the right thing to say, because Dean’s expression turned serious and he straightened up like he was talking with a business official rather than his childhood companion. That gave Castiel pause. He didn’t like Dean’s reaction, but he wasn’t sure what else to say, because he didn’t know what Dean _wanted_ from him. To tag along like he had during their childhood and flirt back? Was it another joke of his? He had noticed Dean flirting with other elves and Castiel didn’t like that. “Of course, I would like to speak with you as well.” It was a big lie. Unable to decide how he should handle Dean’s constant comments, recently Castiel tried to avoid his friend altogether.

Which only made him feel _worse_.

Dean watched Castiel for a couple of second with a hard to read expression, but Castiel had a feeling that he didn’t buy his assurance. Finally, Dean turned around and headed to his worktable. Atop of it were scattered various tools, a detailed scheme of how to build a mechanism for a remote-controlled car pushed carelessly aside − Castiel was certain at this point Dean didn’t need it anymore and only kept it there out of habit ─ a stack of cardboard packages for the toy cars, plastic used for securing the toys to prevent them from moving inside their packaging, and an empty black mug with letters AC/DC written across of it, which Castiel didn’t understand the meaning of. Next to the table on the floor sat a large box full of neatly stacked boxes with the finished cars Dean had produced today inside.

Dean planted the toy and controller on the table, grabbed a cardboard package, skillfully folded it into the proper shape and started putting the items in the plastic containers. “I’m almost done here,” he informed. “Wanna hang out later at your place?” He paused and fixed his eyes on Castiel.

A nervous sensation squeezed Castiel’s stomach and a wave of hotness hit him out of nowhere at the prospect of being alone with Dean in his cottage, shielded from prying eyes and free to do whatever their wanted—

“Cas, hi!” another familiar voice reached Castiel’s ears and he turned to his right where Dean’s younger, but taller brother, Sam, walked over to them. He was flashing a bright smile typical for him. “Good to see you!”

“And you, Sam,” Castiel greeted, thankful for the distraction.

“Let me guess, you wanted to check if everything was running smoothly here. Am I right?” Castiel nodded silently to which Sam responded with a nod of his own. “Always thinking about work. You really should go easier on yourself and try to relax once in a while, man.” Then his expression soured as he wrapped his arms around his torso and stared in annoyance at Dean. “But it’s a good thing you came, actually. Maybe you’ll be able to knock some sense into my stubborn _jerk_ of a brother.”

Castiel shifted his eyes between both elves, taking notice of how Dean stared back defiantly at Sam. Having them at odds with each other was uncommon as they tended to stick together − a result of losing both parents early into their lives − and remain on friendly terms. Usually, the worst their ‘arguments’ got was endless teasing from Dean that occasionally resulted in Sam asking him to act more seriously in a very put-upon voice. This time around they seemed genuinely annoyed.

“Or you could stop being such a little _bitch_ and side with your older brother,” Dean fired back.

“I’m not going to side with you just because we’re related when you’re in the wrong,” Sam announced.

Wanting to stop their argument before it turned more heated, Castiel stepped between them to bring their attention back to him and asked: “What happened?”

“Well, Dean decided it would an amazing idea to play classic rock music on the gramophone—”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it!” Dean interrupted with a smirk. “I don’t hear you complaining about it back in our cottage, and I play all the time!”

The reason behind their conflict became clear to Castiel. In order to render a day of work more pleasant for the elves, there were gramophones scattered around the workshop, equipped with a collection of vinyl disks containing Christmas music and songs as per elves preference.

On the other hand, Dean’s taste was more... peculiar. He absolutely adored rock music from the 1970s and 1980s, much to Castiel’s bewilderment, who has only heard loud music and a lot of screaming from those recordings. He didn’t mind listening to them, in fact he got a lot of enjoyment back when he was a teenager from watching Dean jumping onto a coffee table or a couch and pretending to play on an electric guitar while singing to the tunes was among the most cherished memories Castiel had; Dean had looked like a string of Northern Lights shining brightly on the firmament. It was absolutely magical, and it mattered not how badly Dean sung. His passion and joy had more than made up for Castiel.

But he could understand where the problem lied now. Other elves were even less fond of this type of music than Castiel was.

“Yes, I do,” Sam confirmed Dean’s accusation, “but it would be _nice_ if you were a little more considerate of everyone else, Dean—”

“Bunch of dicks...” Dean murmured.

“We all work together, whether you like it or not, so you should be more tolerant of their preferences... considering how tolerant they are of your behavior.” Dean glared at Sam and his brother smiled calmly back. “Everyone asked that you change the music and you just decided to _ignore_ their request. Very mature.”

“Oh, and they weren’t acting like big babies? You’d think someone stole their lollipop or something.” Dean turned to Castiel, willing him to understand with those lush green eyes. “Look, I like Christmas music, but _how many times_ can you listen to the same thing? A guy needs a change once in a while.”

Sam also looked at Castiel expectantly. Weighted by their scrutiny, Castiel struggled to decide whom to side with. He could see how tiring it would be to listen to the same music non-stop day after day. However, Christmas music was important to elves as it inspired them to continue their hard work and create wonderful toys for children all year round. The needs of many were more important than the wants of one person, wasn’t that correct? But Castiel hesitated to give that answer as the memory of Dean jumping atop a couch to shake his body to the tune of rock music and singing poorly appeared in Castiel’s mind.

“A change once in a while isn’t a bad thing,” he decided eventually. Dean pumped his fist in the air and a wide grin overtook his lips, while Sam rolled his eyes like he had received the predictable answer. “Dean should be allowed to play his music, so long as he doesn’t do it all the time.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” he commented. “Of course you’d take his side. You two, I swear...” Still shaking his head, he walked past Castiel and headed toward the exit.

“Now, don’t cry, Samantha,” Dean called after him, looking mighty smug. “I’m sure one of these days you’re going to win.”

In response Sam flipped him the finger without bothering to look back, which earned him a laugh from his older brother. Grinning in satisfaction Dean grabbed the toy car and finished packing it inside the box.

Castiel was aware that Sam had a point: he was very biased toward Dean and almost always took his side in arguments, unless Dean’s behavior was seriously out of hand. But something deep down in his heart pulled him in to making those choices. Something that spread a pleasant warm throughout his body at the mere thought of Dean, and also a dreadful cold whenever he fantasized about taking advantage of Dean, his employee. That was why he had tried to avoid the elf. Because it was torturous to be so close and not be allowed embrace him, feel his body heat against his own and those strong muscles shifting against his own skin as they shared his comfortable, warm bed—

No, no, he needed to stop thinking this immediately! What was wrong with him that he had such ideas about his own best friend?! Besides, they were here in order to work and prepare Christmas gifts for children around the world, to bring happiness into their lives. Nothing took priority over this! Castiel needed to stop wasting time on those stupid fantasies that wouldn’t come true anyway!

Taking a deep breath to clear his mind and focus his attention back on the present, Castiel looked back at Dean and watched as his friend put the last toy car among all others into the large container on the floor that he had built that day, then stepped to the side, giving Castiel a good look at his profile, and bent down to pick it up, pushing his butt out. Castiel took a sharp breath when he saw the thick material of elf’s pants tightening around his round cheeks, perfectly underlining their round shape, and immediately Castiel felt himself tightening in his own pants as the desire to embrace Dean awoke in his heart—

“Dean!” Castiel choked out and cleared his throat, hearing how high-pitched his voice sounded. Dean froze in place, hands grasping the container by its sides and body still bent in half. Castiel struggled to come up with an explanation for what his problem was, because he _couldn’t_ possibly admit to those forbidden thoughts. “This isn’t a proper position for picking up boxes,” he eventually pointed out in a moment of brilliance. “You can seriously injure your back by doing it like that.”

Unfortunately, his eyes flicked to Dean’s butt as if on their own accord and when he glanced back at his friend’s face, he noticed Dean following his sight. The familiar mischievous grin spread across Dean’s plush mouth as he looked at Castiel.

“Oh, right,” he agreed. “I’m glad I have someone to keep a _close_ eye on me.” And then he shook his butt enticingly, bringing Castiel’s attention to it once more despite his better judgement.

 _Dear Lord_ , has Dean figured out his desires?!

“I... I need to c-continue my inspection,” Castiel faltered, almost running to the double doors that joined the two parts of the workshop.

Things were getting out of control between him and Dean. The longer he denied those emotions surging through him, the more powerful they appeared to be getting. Never had he _checked Dean’s butt out_ before. What had come over him to _do_ that? And the worst part was that Dean had noticed him doing it, and instead of being offended, he had seemed to have _encouraged_ it. Did Dean share his fantasies, or was that another joke to him?

It didn’t matter either way. They weren’t here to indulge in their personal desires, but to fulfill obligations bestowed upon his Father by God Himself. They had an important mission of encouraging good behavior in children and punishing the bad ones to help raise productive members of the human societies.

Castiel waited until his breathing had returned to normal before pushing away from the double door to start his inspecting the machinery. A memory of Tasha Sheridan and other children whose bad behavior he and Father had noted in the name scroll appeared in his mind, steeling his resolve. That’s right, kids like them needed guidance to grow up into decent people. Wasting time on fantasizing about Dean and actually spending time with him was out of question. He needed to focus on the important task at hand, not on some selfish wants, but for the good of humankind.

However, despite his renewed resolve, Castiel didn’t trust himself to remain in control around Dean, so he spent more time wandering through the machinery room longer than he had originally intended, taking care to really inspect everything up close. He realized how much he had been stalling when he had started checking the cleanliness of gears inside the plastic foundry, something that was done merely four times a year. The workshop was in perfect order and half an hour later he couldn’t come up with any further excuses to stay other than the desire to make sure Dean got bored waiting for him and decided to head home for the night. Steeling his nerves for a different outcome, Castiel returned to the assembly part of the building and scanned the place in search of his friend, but he was nowhere in sight. Relief briefly flickered in his heart, only to be immediately flooded by embarrassment and guilt.

 _I’m avoiding my best friend_ , Castiel thought with bitterness. He had never expected his life to become so complicated. Dean was always there for him when he needed support − like during those days when Father or Mother were ill, and Castiel feared that this was the moment they passed away, even though God promised them at least two centuries more to live − and now he was going out of his way to stay away?

Shame filled his chest to the brim as he re-dressed properly, said goodbye to the last elf standing − Garth, an extremely dedicated worker who remained long after anyone else to finish one more toy and another one − then headed back outside into the winter weather, keeping a quick pace as if his entire being wanted to run away from the problem that he himself had created. Cold air once more bit at the sliver of skin he left exposed and occasional gusts of wind smacked his body trying to push him back. And, as usual, the snow covering the ground crunched underneath his boots, yet he barely paid attention to any of it, angry at himself for not being able to keep his emotions in check and allowing the situation between him and Dean to spiral out of control to this degree. But what was he supposed to do? Interacting with Dean like nothing had happened didn’t work, the feelings burning in his chest only grew stronger whenever he saw Dean’s smile or heard another of his crude jokes. Avoiding him was painful.

He slowed down as he got closer to home, briefly stopping to take a deep breath of chilly, fresh air. While he stared ahead and tried to calm his own confused mind, he noticed a green hue flickering on the walls of cottages scattered around the village. Lowering his eyes to the ground, he saw the same hue dancing on the ground before him. His heart hitched in excitement, pushing the conflicted emotions away, and he raised his eyes to the night sky above to stare at the Northern Lights dancing lazily on the firmament like a curtain moved around by a soft breeze.

Many people hated winter, seeing it as nothing more than nature dying each year or as a cold season during which they had to wear uncomfortable clothes, or even the world being covered by a thick layer of snow that always made it more difficult to move around. What these people didn’t realize was that nature didn’t die at all, it merely went into a deep sleep to rest the same way that humans spend a night in bed, all to wake up in the morning reinvigorated and ready to face new challenges. And winter was beautiful in its own way. Snowflakes swirling from the sky to silently fall onto the ground to form a soft blanket, each starting as a unique creation only to come together as a new whole. The beautiful silence of animals resting. Snowmen and snow fights. Sledding. Christmas season. And Northern Lights.

 _I used to spend so much time with Dean watching them_ , Castiel mused with a smile. His mood soured again once he had fully comprehended what he had just thought; he tore eyes away from the mesmerizing sight above to continue his journey home.

He maneuvered between the snow-covered cottages, letting his muscle memory guide him to safety. Occasionally he stumbled upon an elf who was still outside, either still on his way home or cleaning the front of their cottage from the snow, and he would pause just long enough to respond to their greetings before walking away quickly. He longed for a peaceful moment alone, sunken in the comfortable armchair in front of his fireplace, book in hand, while distracting himself from the troublesome daydreams about Dean by reading of a fantasy written by some author. Eventually, he rounded the last building and found himself on the clear pathway to his own cottage, built aside from the village and pressed against a mountain—

And froze in place, startled by what he saw.

There was a warm orange light flickering in the windows of his living room and his bedroom upstairs. Was someone inside?

Regaining control over his limbs, Castiel hurried to the front door, which was of course unlocked − no need to enforce safety rules when not a single crime was ever committed in their small isolated community − and entered, scanning his surroundings in search of unexpected guest.

The place was small and compacted, built out of raw wood in an open floor plan, the living room and small kitchenette joined together, small stairs pressed against the back wall leading up to the bedroom and bathroom; since he ate most meals with his parents and either spent majority of time either at their place or in the workshop, he didn’t need much more than a place to relax for an hour or two and sleep. He closed the front door absentmindedly while taking in the familiar surroundings. Just as he had determined from the outside, a fire was buzzing in the fireplace, flames dancing happily as they consumed logs and sparks occasionally flying in the air. The place wasn’t completely heated up yet, but the fire had been going for at least ten minutes, judging by how warm it was.

Castiel scowled and undressed, wondering who paid him a late visit and why were they hiding. If it were his parents, they would be waiting for him downstairs. As would anyone else. He couldn’t imagine any reason for his unexpected visitor to start a fire and then disappear without a—

Oh, but there was a trace.

Just as Castiel was hanging his jacket, scarf and hat on a wooden coat hanger standing in the corner by the front door, he spotted... were that _clothes_? The first item he spotted was a green hat, long and pointy with a pompom at the end, one that elves wore around the village, laying only a couple of feet away from where he was standing. Castiel looked further and noticed an array of garments leading from the fireplace to the stairs like trail of breadcrumbs: a pair of gloves, jacket, thick jumper, long-sleeved shirt, shoes, belt, thick socks and — laying on the first steps to his bedroom — _pants_ , all in green and white, color typical for the elf wear. An unspoken thought − or rather a hope he didn’t dare to recognize − appeared in Castiel’s mind as he quickly took off his boots covered in melting snow and rushed upstairs to confront his visitor. Whose identity he had known well before he had pushed the door to his bedroom open.

The air knocked out of his lungs at the view that welcomed him inside. He recovered enough to inhale sharply through his teeth.

Dean was sprawled comfortably on Castiel’s unmade bed, sucking on a candy cane, left arm pillowed underneath his head for comfort. And he was almost completely _naked_ , save for skimpy red briefs with a tiny bow sewed at the top. Unable to stop himself Castiel stared at the elf’s muscular arms, chest and legs that were dusted with hair; the elves were surprisingly well built in order to make up for their small stature. The warm orange light coming from the burning fireplace danced across Dean’s golden skin like it was trying to caress it on its own. Castiel swallowed through his suddenly dry throat as he moved his eyes down to the heart shaped hair covering Dean’s chest and further south to his stomach where they turned into a thin line that disappeared under those tiny briefs. The briefs tightly clamped around Dean’s body and perfectly outlined the stiff member that twitched right in front of his eyes—

“Dean,” Castiel choked out, forcing himself to look up at Dean’s face and his self-satisfied smirk. “What in God’s name are you doing in my bed?”

Dean pulled the candy cane out of his mouth with an _obscene_ pop. “I’m solving a crossword puzzle. What does it look like to you?”

“I can _see_ what you’re doing. I meant _why_ are you in my bed?” He waves his hand up and down Dean’s bare image, wanting to point out his obvious lack of clothes, but he hadn’t managed to produce a single sound; the words had gotten lost somewhere between his brain and mouth.

For a moment his only answer was Dean’s widening smirk. Dean took his time putting away the candy cane on its plastic wrapped atop the nightstand, then he stretched out, which made the hills and valleys of his muscles and that _eye-catching_ outline of his erect penis even more noticeable. The elf rolled onto his stomach and then to all fours, crawling across the bed closer to Castiel. The smooth surface of Dean’s back and the roundness of his butt immediately dragged Castiel’s full attention right to them. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize that Dean had stopped near the edge and waited patiently for him to look back at his face.

“I wanted to hang with my friend,” Dean explained in that deep, honey voice of his that sent chills Castiel’s spine. “Now, you never gave me an answer back at the workshop, but don’t worry, I know you’re too overworked and too tired to pay attention to everything. That’s why I decided to drop by and help you relax a little. What are friends for, right?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips.

This was such a blatant lie sewn with thick threads that Castiel knew Dean didn’t actually expect him to believe it. “Help me relax? In your _underwear_?” At last Castiel had confirmation of Dean’s true intentions, but he couldn’t believe that Dean would actually sneak inside his cottage, strip naked, and wait in his bed while sucking on a candy cane. “Isn’t this a bit much?” he added with a stunned chuckle.

The mischievous smile widened on Dean’s lips, turning into a wolfish grin. “I was trying to preserve some dignity here, but if it makes you more comfortable, I can take them off...”

Before Castiel could say anything to straighten out his words, Dean rose onto his knees, grabbed onto the elastic band of his briefs and pulled them down just enough to see the wet tip of his hard, thick penis pok—

“No!” Castiel cried out, tearing his eyes away from Dean and trying to keep them focused on the ceiling, walls, the single window in his room, _anywhere_ but at that alluring view. He felt his own member hardening rapidly until it became rock hard, straining against the confinement of his pants. There was a fiery temptation to give in surging through his veins, to _shove_ Dean back onto the bed and _ravish_ him the whole night, and the entire next day. Those sinful emotions he’d been trying to suppress for several months were breaking through the dam he had built, flooding his being. In a last desperate attempt to regain control over the situation, Castiel tried a stern act: “Dean, you’re acting like a child.”

“Oh, I’m acting like a child?” Dean scoffed in a genuinely offended tone and Castiel felt a tinge of regret over treating his friend in such manner. “I’m not the one who’s afraid to admit what’s going on between us and give in like I have cooties or something!”

Castiel took a calming breath and returned his eyes to Dean, making absolute sure to keep them focused on his face, but at the edges of his vision he could still see _it_ , hard and wet. Dear Lord, he _wanted_ to give in, but that was out of question.

“There is _nothing_ going on between us,” Castiel denied and his heart squeezed painfully at such a blatant disregard of his own emotions.

“And there should be!” Dean insisted. “What, you think I didn’t notice how you look at me all the time? You think you can just bottle up everything and pretend it doesn’t exist?” Suddenly, anger evaporated from Dean’s face and posture, and he slumped down, sitting on the heels of his bare feet, utterly defeated. “Fuck, I’m so bad at this myself, at this whole sharing-and-caring, but...” Dean sighed and stared straight into Castiel’s eyes, his very soul, those wonderful green eyes filled with utter misery. “I fucking miss you, alright? It fucking sucks, you’ve been avoiding me recently. You don’t want to get together? Fine. But don’t give me that bullshit that you don’t feel anything. Grow up and tell me upfront you’re not interested instead of avoiding me. Because it fucking hurts that you treat me like this.”

Listening to his friend’s confession and realizing how much pain he’d caused him hurt Castiel far worse than the idea of ignoring his emotions. Castiel’s job was to bring happiness into people’s lives, so how on Earth had it come to be that he had made Dean so miserable?

The answer was obvious: he was so focused on what he wanted for his future that he never paused to consider what Dean needed to keep that optimistic attitude and charming smile of his up. Something inside Castiel shifted as his heart shattered into a million pieces at the view before him. In the past Dean had shared with him things he was certain nobody else had heard: that he still missed his parents, nearly two centuries after their deaths; that taking care of Sam, even with Uncle Bobby’s help, had been more difficult than he’d revealed; and that spending time with Castiel had allowed him to forget the troubles of everyday life, to be himself for a moment. Castiel had been too selfish to remember any of it.

No, that wasn’t it. He was thinking about children around the world waiting for their present and the work he had to do, but _none_ of it mattered when Dean was looking so miserable. Castiel’s entire modus operandi disappeared from his mind. Everything that had mattered to him had been reduced to this small bedroom with flames crackling in the fireplace and Dean kneeling on the bed, looking up toward Castiel, willing his friend silently to soothe that pain of rejection piercing the elf’s heart.

In two steps Castiel walked over to the bed, feet sinking into the thick carpet covering the floor, and stopped at the edge. Dean stared at him unmoving, probably afraid to break the spell, but hope flashed in his eyes and Castiel’s heart squeezed once more at the thought that he had made Dean miserable in the first place. Now he had full intention to make him feel better.

Castiel reached out and Dean immediately leaned into his touch, starved for attention. Castiel brushed his palm over the elf’s beard, up his temple and through his carefully styled hair; with fondness he recalled from his teenage years watching as Dean had applied a lot of gel to the tips to make it stand up and spiky. Dean had grumbled about how other elves thought he was being wasteful in taking so much care of his looks and he’d call them simply jealous. Even today Castiel could feel how stiff his hair was, but there was also some softness to it, and he moved his fingers back and forth, taking in the sensation. His movements slowed down when he met Dean eyes, and what little resolution to stay away from Dean, disintegrated completely. He couldn’t deny Dean anymore.

As if reading in his mind, Dean stood up while keeping eye contact, using Castiel’s hand and arms for support. Each touch from Dean sent an electric surge through Castiel’s skin, muscles and to his very core. They’d touched before on many occasions, but this time it felt very different, _better_. Since Dean was standing on the bed, once he straightened up completely, they were almost face to face and Dean’s warm breath that smelled faintly of peppermint candy cane blew over Castiel’s skin. The heat of Dean’s bare body seeped through Castiel’s clothes, somehow making him feel hotter than the fire burning next to them. Unable to stop himself anymore, Castiel pressed his palms to Dean’s body and moved them upwards his back, exploring the smoothness of his skin and muscles shaped by pure labor twitching underneath it in response to Castiel’s touch like piano keys played by a skilled player. Dean was so receptive to Cas’ ministrations; a soft gasp came from his plush lips and Castiel’s cock jerked in response.

 _Dear God_ , why didn’t Castiel ever think about the desire he had for Dean? It seemed so foolish at the moment when Dean melted so _beautifully_ in his arms.

For the first time in God knows how long, Castiel tore his eyes away from Dean’s and glanced down to take in his friend’s mostly bare body, his robust arms and chest covered in hair. It was normal for elves to look like this. As a sharp contrast to their small posture, they developed muscles easily and were surprisingly strong, able to lift an object three times their own weight. Castiel was very much aware from a logical standpoint that there was nothing unique in Dean’s build, but... Lord Almighty, seeing Dean’s body did things to him... his fingers dug deeper into Dean’s back as if he was trying to meld them together... and then the tip of Dean’s hard cock sticking out of his underwear flashed in front of Castiel again and he was _lost_.

The long-repressed desire exploded inside him and the flames slowly consumed his being like logs stuck in the fireplace. Castiel snapped his head up and pressed his lips against Dean’s, biting, licking and sucking, asking for the entrance. Dean gave permission when he simply slipped his own tongue inside Castiel’s mouth, tasting hungrily everywhere, and Castiel did the same to him in return. The aftertaste of candy cane was stronger here, but it couldn’t cover the flavor of _Dean_.

Overtaken by pleasure, Castiel almost missed the moment when Dean snaked his arms around his torso and pulled them closer together until an additional pressure on his hardened member caused him to moan into Dean’s mouth. Deepening the kiss, Castiel started rutting against Dean and Dean responded in the same manner, both of them chasing the pleasure they only could achieve with each other. Because nobody in the whole world mattered at the moment. They were like plane-crash survivors stranded on a remote island, separated from civilization by endless ocean, but joined by God’s will.

The friction, as wonderful as it felt, wasn’t enough, so Castiel moved his palms down Dean’s muscular back and pressed them to Dean’s butt, earning a choked gasp from his friend. He _yanked_ the elf closer, tightening the pressure on their penises to the pleasure of them both, and kept him there while they resumed kissing hungrily, rutting like horny teenagers. Of course, they weren’t teenager anymore, and suddenly that thought made Castiel upset. How much time had they _wasted_ due to his own stubbornness to focus exclusively on work when they could’ve been doing this for years? It felt so right and so fulfilling that he couldn’t even recall why he wanted to avoid it in the first place.

 _No more_ , he decided. _No more holding back._

He dragged his tongue over Dean’s for the last time and pulled back, which was met with a cry of protest from Dean. Immediately, Dean attacked his exposed neck as a replacement, leaving kisses and love bites from the spot where his beard ended all the way to the place where it met with his shoulder. Castiel made a sound somewhere between a cry of pain and pleasure, and on instinct grabbed at the back of Dean’s head to prevent him from pulling back. The gentle scraping of teeth on his skin, followed by tender smooches... the years of pent up desire revealed silently in those moves... and desperate rutting of their erections against each other... God, Dean was so hungry for him! And Castiel wanted him back! He wouldn’t be able to contain the passion burning inside him anymore even if he tried to!

As if working on their own accord Castiel’s hands sneaked to the elf’s briefs and grabbed onto those firm, muscular cheeks he had admired earlier, feeling tiny hair brushing against his fingertips. He gave them one, two squeezed, prompting a moan of approval from Dean and causing the elf to stop his assault on Castiel’s neck. Castiel took this opportunity to drag the underwear down Dean’s butt and look at it over Dean’s shoulder, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted Dean completely naked to worship every inch of his body. With a new wave of passion bursting in his loins, Castiel _yanked_ the last article of clothing keeping Dean’s modesty all the way to his ankles, Dean’s hard penis popping free from its confinement and poking Castiel in the abdomen. Dean gasped in surprise, but instead of seeing shock in his eyes when Castiel looked up, he noticed pure lust. Finishing his job, Dean kicked the underwear away, sending them God knows where and he was standing naked as the day he was born, fully exposed to Castiel.

Dean’s erection stood up straight, fairly thick and long for an elf; not that Castiel was an expert in elves’ penises, but, when you live in a village full of them and interact with them on daily basis, sooner or later you’ll see their privates parts, like when you both are using bathroom in the workshop at the same time. Castiel swallowed through his dry throat and ran his index finger up the underside of Dean’s penis from where a light bush grew at the base, up the smooth shaft to the very tip feeling its arch, and the wetness covering the exposed head.

He didn’t have much time to enjoy the sensation, however, because Dean sprung forward, grabbed at the bottom of his jumper and yanked it upward, forcing Castiel to raise his hands up and let go of that alluring member. Unsure all of a sudden why he was still covered in clothes, Castiel, with a little help from Dean, made short work out of undressing. The fireplace heat felt wonderful against his bare skin and now he could comprehend Dean’s choice to remain exposed on his bed while he awaited Castiel’s return. His penis, slightly longer and thicker than Dean’s, jumped happily out of its confinement and Castiel hissed at the feeling of air against his sensitive flesh. Completely naked, Castiel threw his clothes in the corner and stood up in front of Dean to let him take in the whole view, his feet sinking into the thick carpet in a wonderful sensation.

Lust blew Dean’s green eyes wide as he scanned Castiel’s entire body; the flames dancing in the fireplace casted a golden hew across his muscular body. Castiel barely had time to register what was happening when Dean _yanked_ him by the hand causing him to fall forward onto the bed, landing safely on the soft mattress with a bounce. His cock jabbed at the thick comforter in a painful yet pleasurable way, which _ripped_ a guttural moan from his dry throat. Small hands grabbed at his arm and flipped him around onto his back. Then Dean was all over him, back to kissing him on his mouth, jaw, neck and slowly working his way toward his nipples, his beard scratching at Castiel’s naked body in a surprisingly sensual manner he adored. Meanwhile Castiel sunk his head onto the pillow and tried to touch as much of Dean as physically possible, brushing palms over the hairy chest, muscular arms and back, and through his gelled hair.

It was almost like they were trying to pull their bodies together and melt them into one being so that nothing could separate them ever again, not Castiel’s misguided sense of responsibility, nor the sheer amount of work they both still had to do until Christmas.

He wanted to remain here in this bedroom, locked away from other villagers, exploring each other’s bodies until they lost all of their strengths and fell asleep, tangled in a mess of bodies and limbs. To forever feel Dean’s determination to mark and lick at every inch of his body, to feel the elf’s muscular form moving under his hands, to kiss him stupid.

“Fuck, Cas...” Dean murmured against his chest, his warm breath skating over the bare skin. Castiel glanced down and met Dean’s _adoring_ green eyes. “I wanted you for the longest time... I can’t believe I finally have this...” A hint of worry spoiled the happiness in his expression. “Please, don’t take it away from me...”

All of his earlier hesitations forgotten, Castiel rose from the pillow to a nearly sitting position, pressed his palms to Dean’s bearded cheeks, and then leaned so close their lips nearly met. “Never,” he said firmly. “I will never turn you down again.” The worry melted away from Dean’s expression, but Castiel still felt like he hadn’t assured him well enough. A burning hot sensation in his chest dragged him into continuing: “I love you, Dean. I always have. I wouldn’t be able to stop this even if I wanted. And I _don’t_.”

Dean looked at him in utter shock, only for his features to melt into the same adoring expression from a moment ago. Carefully as to not break their contact he turned his head in Castiel’s palms and planted several kisses on his love’s hand. Although he hadn’t said it out loud, Castiel understood this gesture as Dean saying: “Love you, too.” Dean wasn’t good at talking about his emotions, a fact Castiel had learned early into their friendship and over the years had developed a way to comprehend what Dean meant when he made certain comments or gestures. This... this was as much of a passionate confession of love and devotion as any literary romance hero would waste words on making.

Their mouths crashed in another kiss, less heated this time around but somehow more meaningful. A spike of pleasure shot through Castiel’s groin and he gasped when their exposed erections brushed against each other, Dean responding in the same manner. In unison they entered a sensual dance as they started moving their hips up and down, brushing their sensitive, hardened flesh together, sending wave after wave of burning hot sensations through their bodies. Castiel sneaked his tongue inside Dean’s mouth and explored hungrily. Dean on the other hand caressed Castiel’s chest, occasionally pinching and teasing his nipples with his fingertips. _Dear Lord, how on Earth could I have ever denied ourselves this_ , Castiel questioned in the last flash of conscious thought as the temperature in his groin reached an alarming levels.

It wasn’t enough. He adored every second of having this, Dean pressed to his body and their members sliding together, but it wasn’t _enough_. He wanted to share his orgasm with Dean and watch as pure pleasure overwrites any remaining hint of worry that could have stay on his face.

Castiel let go off Dean’s face, braced himself on one hand pressed onto the mattress below them, and used the other to grab their penises, bringing them firmly and closer in a tight grip. With a surprised gasp Dean broke their kiss, throwing his head back, and Castiel started stroking them in unison. God, that was it! That’s what he needed, to feel the pleasure surging through their flesh and Dean breaking down under his ministrations. Absolute perfection.

Ecstasy exploded inside Castiel’s groin as cum shot from his cock; trapped by his palm, it ended up smeared over both their members as Castiel rode out his orgasm, eventually collapsing backwards onto the bed, completely and utterly spent. Breathing heavily to calm his hammering heart and to cool his burning lungs, Castiel felt exhaustion and bliss spreading around his body.

The sound of flesh slapping brought him from the brink of falling asleep on the spot and he forcefully opened his eyes to watch as Dean knelt above him, knees braced on either side of his hips, masturbating furiously toward his own climax. Dear Lord, he looked _stunning_ like this, mouth half open and eyes focused on Castiel, moving between his face, naked body and rapidly softening penis covered in fresh cum. The mixture of pleasure, lust and adoration in his eyes caused Castiel’s heart to swell in happiness. He did this. He put Dean in this emotional state. And he’d make sure to do so each and every day from now on.

Gasping for air, Dean shot his own release onto Castiel’s bare chest, splattering on his skin. The elf collapsed atop him, barely stopping himself from crushing Castiel by bracing his hands on the mattress next to Cas’ head.

Their eyes locked for what felt like the thousandth time this evening and a silly thought appeared in Castiel’s slowly awakening mind that Dean is the most beautiful person to ever live.

“I love you, Dean...” he murmured.

Dean chuckled breathlessly. “You sap,” he teased.

But he leaned forward and captured Castiel’s mouth in slow, sensual kiss.

***

Something was patting him on the left arm.

Castiel grumbled in annoyance at having his sleep interrupted when he was buried in his warm, thick comforter and felt more relaxed than he had in years. He rolled from his belly onto his right side to get away from the whoever was bothering him, buried himself deeper in the bedding, and tried to fall asleep again. However, after a moment of reprieve the patting on his left arm resumed, more determined this time. He grumbled again, which did nothing to slow down the irritating sensation, let alone stop it.

A familiar voice broke through the dream haze surrounding his mind like protective bubble wrap: “Dude. Dude wake up.” Dean. It was Dean, but what was he—

Oh, that’s right! They had spent the night together and once they were done having sex, laying around soaked in post-orgasm bliss and lazily making out, they had cleaned themselves, picked Dean’s clothes from the first floor and had returned to bed for a well-earned rest because they were dead tired. Now that Castiel was able to focus his thoughts a bit, he realized he was dressed in his underwear and his undershirt that he had thrown on the night before to better keep warm, and Dean had done the same thing. They ended up falling asleep laying on their sides with Dean’s back pressed to Castiel’s chest in what normal people called ‘spooning’ as Castiel had found out from reading romance novels, which he wouldn’t admit in front of anyone. As a person whose job it was to prepare and deliver toys for children, he supposed he shouldn’t have interest in such obscene literature. Even if he admitted in the privacy of his own mind that he enjoyed it quite a bit.

Despite his earlier reservations against pursing a relationship with Dean, Castiel smiled sleepily at the recollection of the amazing sex they’d had. He had never had sex before, but being so close to Dean...

Wearing that happy smile, Castiel opened his eyes to the view of Dean laying next to him, in his bed. Dean’s hair was still in perfect order at the top of his head, but anywhere else it was quite messy from rolling around in his sleep. His clothes were rumpled as well. Although the same joy Castiel felt reflected on Dean’s face, there was still a hint of embarrassment and uneasiness spoiling it.

Castiel frowned and sat up, letting the comforter slide down from his arms and pool around his waist. “Dean...” he started, voice rougher after sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh... We have guests,” Dean responded, glancing at the bedroom door.

Castiel sat properly on the bed, leaning his back against the backrest, and followed Dean’s eyes. His heart jolted nervously when he spotted Father and Mother standing in the threshold, wearing uneasy expressions that matched Dean’s. Instinctively, Castiel pulled the comforter tighter around him in an attempt to cover himself up, despite the fact that he was already dressed, but the memory of what he and Dean had been doing, maybe an hour or two ago, flooded his mind. Could Father and Mother see the evidence of their activities? They had tried to clean up before they laid down, but they had already been exhausted and could have missed something. Dear God, what if there were semen stains dotting the comforter? He didn’t think to check!

“T-this isn’t what it looks like,” Castiel blurted out thoughtlessly and immediately cursed internally at himself. He didn’t want to hide his new relationship with Dean, so why had he said that?

“Actually,” Dean chimed in, sounding rather amused, “this is exactly what it looks like.”

The embarrassment on his parents’ faces was broken by amused smiles. Mother raised her palm up like she was calming a startled reindeer. “It’s alright, Castiel,” she assured. “You don’t have to explain anything. Me and your father,” Mother stepped closer to Father and he laid an arm around her shoulder, bringing them closer together, a picture of proud parents, “know that you’ve been focusing too much on work. Delivering gifts to children is important, but we didn’t want you to neglect your personal life.”

“We’re glad that you’re finally looking out for your own well-being too, son,” Father added.

Those words should have soothed Castiel’s nervousness, but instead they reawakened the sense of responsibility he thought he had put behind already, though it wasn’t anywhere as strong as it used to be. He glanced at Dean who still looked amused and flustered at the same time, and that wonderful warm sensation flooded his heart again. No, he couldn’t give this up no matter what, not now that he had tasted what it was like being with Dean, how it had felt to hold him in his arms and kiss him until they were both breathless. There was no possibility in the world that he’d be able to return to how their relationship was before and not have his heart shatter into million pieces.

Which did nothing to silence the remnant of his conviction that he needed to focus entirely on the important task God had given them. A small part of him, lodged into the back of his mind, demanded that he explain himself to his parents and accept whatever punishment they would give him for forgetting his priorities. _Of course_ they wouldn’t. They just _said_ that they were happy for him. However, his misguided sense of responsibility that towered over him like a gigantic castle that he had built over three centuries, was hard to completely silence when he wasn’t in throes of passion.

Since starting a relationship with Dean didn’t bother them, Castiel decided to bring up another issue: “We’re both men. We can’t have a child. Who will continue our work after we’re all gone?”

His parents’ smiles hadn’t even faltered at this question.

“Everything that’s good has to come to an end eventually,” Father pointed out. “We never thought that the tradition of bringing gifts to children across the world would last forever.”

“After we pass away,” Mother added, “people will have to carry on with the gift giving on their own.”

A wave of calmness washed over Castiel, silencing the misguided sense of responsibility once more, as the truth behind his parents’ argument sunk in. Wasn’t this what they’d been working for this whole time? To help create a better world by teaching people kindness and generosity? If their efforts had any lasting results on humanity, they wouldn’t need to always be there, because people would continue to apply the lesson they’d learn in daily life.

Castiel looked at Dean and met those lush green eyes of his, feeling love and affection filling his entire being, seeping into every molecule of his body. And to think he’d wasted so many years they could’ve spent together all because of his own conviction that people would be lost without him. Now he had to make up for it. Thankfully, they had all the time in the world for it.

“Let’s leave the boys alone,” Father decided, bringing Castiel and Dean’s attention back to them.

Mother nodded and stepped out of the room, following after Father, but paused briefly with her hand on the doorknob, glancing one more time at them. “Oh, Dean. Why don’t you come over tomorrow for a dinner? We haven’t eaten together for quite some time.”

“You got it, Mrs. S.,” Dean agreed.

And with a final nod of approval, Mother closed the door behind her, leaving them alone.

***

Dean was dressed warmly and sitting on the windowsill with his back leaned against the wall when Castiel returned to the bedroom, carrying two mugs full of eggnog. He briefly looked at Castiel to accept one of the mugs and a tender kiss Castiel just needed to give him as if they hadn’t seen each other for several days instead of the few minutes he was downstairs.

Sighing in contentment, Castiel joined Dean on the windowsill and looked through the glass to see the Northern Lights still swirling in the night sky, casting a green hue on the snowy, quiet village below. It was such a beautiful view that he never got tired of seeing. Especially now that he had Dean by his side to share it with him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dean started, twisting the mug in his hands, “how do you feel about taking a free day tomorrow? We could stay here and have some more fun.” He flashed that mischievous smile of his and wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive way he surely thought was sexy. It wasn’t, but despite himself Castiel found it endearing somehow. He had spent a lot of time worrying about his growing affection towards Dean and how it would affect their work, but now that he had accepted it, he was completely relaxed and more clear minded than he had been in months.

A mere three hours ago Castiel would have been horrified at the suggestion that they neglect their responsibilities for one day. He also would not have believed that he’d end up in bed with Dean in the first place. But as he pondered Dean’s question in their current circumstances, the prospect of staying here in this warm bedroom and having an opportunity to explore Dean’s body, learning which parts were most sensitive and would bring the most pleasurable moans out of Dean was just too tempting to turn down. The elves and the workshop would survive without his supervision for a day.

Or two.

Alright, he needed to calm down, because he was losing all control at the mere thought of him and Dean having sex again. It was hard to control those feelings, though, since he had let them out and now they swirled inside him, casting a bright light on his mind and heart like the Northern Lights that swirled in the sky. Beautiful and completely uncontrollable.

Never mind, he’d worry about it later.

“I have to check my schedule for tomorrow,” Castiel joked, fighting and losing to keep the smile from stretching across his lips. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Dean straightened his back and gave Castiel an amused expression. “Oh, yeah? You don’t have time for your own friend?” he asked and slipped closer to Castiel until their tights touched, sending body heat through the material of their pants. “You’re such a workaholic. You need to relax a little and I might just know the way to do it.” He leaned closer and their lips brushed against each other, their warm breaths swirled together.

“Is that so?” Castiel at last gave in and smiled. “You think I’d be interested?”

“You bet your fucking ass, Cas.”

Then their lips met in a slow, tender kiss. There was no reason to hurry. After all, they had centuries to explore their new relationship. Now that they’d been together.

Finally.


End file.
